The Wounded Welkin
by Hoshi-tachi
Summary: When Harry is removed from the Dursleys in the summer of his sixth year for his own safety, the last thing he’s expecting is to be propelled on a new adventure that this time, he’s unlikely to survive. Slash, future crossovers, AU.
1. I: Expecting the Worst

**Title**: _The Wounded Welkin_ (1)

**Author**: hoshi-tachi

**Category**: Harry Potter, sixth year

**Rating**: R

**Pairings**: HP/SS, most likely. Some others as well.

**Spoilers**: SS/PS, CoS, PoA, GoF, OotP

**Distribution**: Fanfiction_dot_net, and eventually my personal website. If anyone else would like to post it somewhere, feel free to do so as long as you tell me about it and give me due credit.

**Summary**: When Harry is removed from the Dursleys in the summer of his sixth year for his own safety, the last thing he's expecting is to be propelled on a new adventure that this time, he's unlikely to survive.

**Warnings**: Hmm… Profanity, of course, future violence, and also in the future, slash. Which is male/male 'interaction', for all you ignorant people out there.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Harry Potter, and didn't get him for Christmas, even though he was on my list. Any other stuff I'll relinquish any claim to once I actually write it in.

* * *

Tranquility was rather like roller coasters or chocolate fudge, the dark-haired boy reflected as he paced in his tiny room. A little bit was nice, every so often, but any more than that and you began to feel sick. Or in this particular instance, bored absolutely stiff.

It wouldn't have been so bad if he'd had chores to do, like he'd had last summer and every other summer of his life. He'd hated having to do them, then, but now… hell, he would've been endlessly grateful to his dear _family_ if they'd even bother to recognize that he existed, instead of taking the Order's warning to heart and completely ignoring him like they had for the past three weeks. Anything that broke the monotony and kept him from thinking about… things… would have been more than welcome.

Sure, there was the annual homework… Harry could practically hear Hermione's voice inside his head the entire time he did it. But seven classes couldn't possibly generate enough homework to last the entire summer, even with a git like Snape assigning as many potions essays as he could.

He'd finished the last of them two days ago. And ever since he had been going slowly, quietly mad.

Harry had a feeling the Dursleys knew it, too, as much as they tried to delude themselves he didn't exist, let alone live in the same house as they did. They didn't see each other much anymore- mostly unexpected encounters in the hallway those times the Boy-Who-Lived could no longer put off the need to use the toilet or take a shower. Every time, they seemed utterly shocked, as if he had somehow intruded on them, and kept as far away as they could until he took the initiative and continued on.

Thankfully, though, those encounters were fairly rare. He usually waited until they weren't home, or only Aunt Petunia was there, puttering around down in the kitchen, before he stirred from his room. Mealtimes with the family he ignored, and to keep from starving he snuck out once they were asleep and ransacked the pantry. He'd lost weight with such a routine, but hey. If it kept him from having to spend more time than necessary in their exalted presence, he figured it was worth it in spades.

He wasn't above annoying them as much as he could, though. There were nights when he couldn't sleep at all, nights when he _knew_ he would dream of him, of them and the biggest mistake of his life. He spent those nights pacing endlessly, and he smiled grimly down at the trail his feet had already worn into the bare wooden floor, imagining how the sound of his footsteps must keep them awake at night as well.

Misery loves company.

Now if only joy did, as well. Maybe then Harry could find someone who was happy and let some of it wear off on him, the wonder of osmosis at work. Didn't he deserve _some_ happiness in his life?

…

Guess not… Somehow he wasn't surprised, though. He _did_ fuck up royally, after all. He practically murdered a person who deserved happiness more than anyone in this world ever has, simply to balance out the shit Fate threw at him at every turn.

The teenager finally stopped moving for a minute, his head low and his arms hanging limply at his sides. It was one of those rare moments in time when the nervous energy that had filled him ever since that night run outs, leaving him like a wind-up doll with no key to turn. Whenever it happened, there was nothing he could do except ride it out, but that didn't matter, since it never lasted long.

And sure enough, it was only a brief time before Harry's nerves were jangling at him again, screaming for him to do something to use up all that bottled energy. He forced himself to sit down on his bed instead, since he knew from experience that there was no way to use it up. It just built and built, and raced through his body like an out-of-control bludger, bashing through anything in its path.

Well, no, that wasn't completely true. It had subsided for a bit when he, and pretty much everyone else on the Hogwarts train, cursed Malfoy into a pitiful wreck.

Maybe it was related to magic. He didn't know. He tried not to think about it overmuch. For all he knew, it was part and parcel to _It_.

Yes, _It_. That damn Prophecy he now considered to be the cause of pretty much every misfortunate thing that had ever happened to him. He knew it was childish of him to refer to it that way, but... damn it, if Dumbledore and all the Order were going to treat him like a child, he was going to bloody well act like one!

Harry rolled over and buried his face in his little-used pillow. God, he sounded bitter, didn't he?

Well, maybe just a _little_. _What, me, sarcastic? You betcha…_

Giving up for the moment on trying to smother himself, he twisted so he was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling, and sighed. He admitted it, he wasn't only childish and a screw-up, but capable of brooding even more morbidly than Moaning Myrtle.

And _that_ was an accomplishment. You could trust him on that.

For a few minutes he listened to the creaks and groans of the silent house, trying to, if not sleep, at least rest his eyes. And it was a good thing he did, too, or he might have missed the quiet sound of the front door opening and closing.

Harry blessed the DA as his wand came almost immediately to his hand, and he padded quietly over to the door. Putting his ear to it, he listened for more signs of the intruders, and heard nothing.

If anything, that confirmed in his mind that it _wasn't_ a member of his family down there. Even if he'd been distracted enough to completely miss hearing any of them leaving their rooms (Dudley and Uncle Vernon both sounded like a heard of elephants even though Dudley's diet seemed to finally be showing some results, and Aunt Petunia wasn't much better), that still begged the question of just what the blazes one of them thought they were doing sneaking around at night.

Harry'd thought that was _his_ job…

Frowning at the silence from downstairs, he went back to his bed and knelt, pulling up the loose floorboard there. A quick tug freed his father's invisibility cloak, and as he donned it even as he opened his door. It _did_ pay to be cautious, after all. The last two years had served as plenty of incentive to get _that_ thought through his thick, Gryffindorish skull.

Too little too late. As usual.

Wand at the ready, the wizard waited for his eyes to adjust at least partially to the darkness before he headed to the top of the stairs. The house was still quiet, but he could see a dark shape, a person, making its way up the steps. Even invisible as he was, he stepped back and waited for them to make it all the way up, his wand held at what would be neck level on a grown man.

Which was, sadly, nearly above his head, but as he didn't really believe that this was the time to have a mental rant over his rather _stunted_ growth, he pushed the thought from his mind and got ready.

After what seemed like forever, the man (as it turned out to be) finally stepped onto the landing, and froze when Harry's wand brushed the back of his neck. "Who are you, and what are you doing here?" He whispered harshly, practically in the man's ear.

It was a moment before he answered. Apparently, he _really_ wasn't expecting to get caught, least of all by a half-trained boy. "Harry?" It was a voice he recognized.

"Professor Lupin?" Harry asked, half-surprised, half-suspicious. After all, the last thing he was expecting at the moment was his old Defense professor, especially since he'd been sending him those reassuring letters the Order had demanded every three days.

He sighed in exasperation. "Harry, how many times have I told you to call me Remus? I'm not your professor anymore."

Well, that settled it. No one but Remus could pull off that gently aggrieved tone as well as the werewolf did. Harry lowered the wand. "Er… I lost track," he admitted, abashed.

Remus shook his head, still almost unrecognizable in the darkness of the hallway. "It doesn't matter anyway. I'm here to pick you up."

Now _that_ surprised him. "What? Why for?"

The wizard glanced around, like he was trying to find something, and Harry realized he was still wearing the cloak. He looked relieved when the boy pulled it off. "We've received word that the Dark Lord knows where you are, and is going to attack some time in the next couple of days."

"_What?_" Later Harry knew he'd wince at the memory of how his voice squeaked when he said that, but right then he was too busy feeling the adrenaline rush.

"We need to get your things and get out of here," Remus said urgently, and the rather odd thought, under the circumstances, at least, passed through Harry's mind that there was a _very_ small possibility that his relatives might sleep through this, but that it was about the same size as the single brain cell left in Gilderoy Lockhart's head.

Shaking the thought away, he nodded and grabbed the werewolf's arm, pulling him towards and into his bedroom. "My trunk's in the corner," he said, pointing it out as he crossed back to the loose floorboard and pried it up. He heard Remus cast a quiet Shrinking Spell on the trunk from behind him.

Harry always kept those few of his possessions under the floorboard that he couldn't stand to lose if the Dursleys got an idea like they did in the summer after his first year. The photo album Hagrid gave him, now holding a few more pictures, was the first thing to come out of it, and Ron's Sneakoscope was next. It was reassuringly silent, and a few more odds and ends followed, leaving the little hollow bare.

"Alright." Harry stood back up again, swaying a little as that pesky nervous energy decided to wane just a bit. Since he hadn't eaten yet that day, or slept for two, it and adrenaline were pretty much all he was running on at the moment, and he took a precious second to toss a few mental curses its way. The damn thing had had him jumpy for a month, and it chose _now_ of all times to consider puttering out on him.

"Are you alright?" Remus asked worriedly, noticing the boy's temporary inability to stand correctly and staring at him with concern.

Harry grinned at him as cheerfully as he could. "I'm fine, Remus. Just stood up too fast."

He stared for a few more seconds, and Harry knew he'd noticed the weight he'd lost since Remus last saw him, and the dark circles under his eyes that matched the werewolf's own. Just when he was beginning to think the wizard might say something, he simply nodded, and walked past him and through the door.

Harry caught up with him in the den, where the adult was studying the electric fireplace intently. "Arthur pulled some strings and got your house reconnected to the Floo network for just this one night. So all we need to do is…" He gestured with his wand, and the entire room filled with dust as the fake fireplace came flying out of the wall, just like in the summer before fourth year.

_There is _no_ way the Dursleys slept through _that, Harry thought as he waved a hand by his face to keep the dust away, coughing. And sure enough, after about three seconds of shocked silent, he heard the sound of pounding feet upstairs.

"_Incendio_" Remus grabbed him by the arm and shoved a packet of Floo powder into his hands. "Go!" he roared, pointing to the fire. "You're going to Hogsmeade, the Three Broomsticks!"

"What about Grimmauld Place?" Harry asked, surprised.

The werewolf shook his head. "We disconnected it from the network. The only way in now is by foot or portkey. Now go! Hagrid will be there to get you to Hogwarts!"

The sight of a red-faced Vernon Dursley stomping down the stairs was more than enough to keep the boy from hesitating further. Gripping his wand, cloak, album and Sneakoscope in one hand with some difficulty, Harry tore open the flimsy bag of powder with his teeth and tossed it onto the flames. They turned a bright green, and he stepped into them with a shout of "the Three Broomsticks!"

Almost immediately he felt nauseous, as the Floo spun him around in tight circles, and dozens of fireplaces flashed past his eyes in a never-ending procession of dancing flames. He held himself as close as he could, trying to take up as little space as he could to keep his elbows from knocking into the walls.

Then one of the fireplaces grew larger instead of flashing by, and he found himself stumbling at last out into the well-beloved pub, and was caught by a pair of strong arms. "Alrigh' there, 'arry?" Hagrid asked the boy in his arms, and his familiar, rumbling voice calmed Harry more than anything else had that evening.

He gave him a slight nod, smiling up at the half-giant. "Yeah, Hagrid, I'm fine. Just… a bit shaken up." He noticed Madame Rosmerta watching them from a corner, and nodded to her as well, receiving a friendly smile in return.

Hagrid chuckled, a sound like a small rockslide. "Ah'm nah surprised…" He carefully let Harry loose, making sure he could stand on his own two feet before letting go completely.

"Well, Ah'd better get yeh up ter the castle," he said cheerfully, brushing some of the soot off of Harry with one plate-sized hand. "Don' wan' yeh out 'ere longer than yeh 'ave ta be."

"What about Remus?" the teenager asked, glancing at the fireplace behind him. "Shouldn't we wait for him?"

Hagrid shook his shaggy head. "Nah. 'e'll be along soon eno'. Imagine 'e's just dealin' with yer relatives, settin' up a coupla extra wards an' suchlike."

Harry nodded reluctantly, casting another look at the flames. "Alright…"

It took them nearly half an hour to walk up to Hogwarts, and he shivered the first ten minutes of the trek as the chill night air bit through the thin clothing that was all he had to wear. Then Hagrid noticed his silent shudders and draped his enormous coat over his shoulders. Harry gave him a genuine smile and then concentrated on keeping the fabric from dragging on the ground.

Then they were standing in front of the great doors that formed the entrance to the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. As Harry stared up at them, he couldn't help but wonder what would happen to him _this_ time in its beloved halls.

* * *

(1) _Welkin_ is a rarely-used literary term for sky. My reason for choosing this as a title will be apparent in the next chapter.

* * *

A/N: As stated in the summary, this will eventually be a crossover with at least one other genre, possibly more. And this chapter was originally written not only in first-person POV, but in the present tense, neither of which I'd ever attempted before. Obviously, I've since decided to rewrite it in my usual style of third-person past tense narrative, but if I missed changing a few verbs or pronouns, I apologize.

And also as stated, this will be slash, most likely Harry/Severus, and possibly mentions of Harry/Others.

Also: school is starting tomorrow. Whether this is a good or bad thing for my writing has yet to be determined.

* * *

2 January 2005


	2. II: Turn Our Golden Faces Into the Sun

**_Warnings and Disclaimers_**: The little poem thingy is a stanza from a British pub song, _Bedlam Boys_, so I don't own it. /sweatdrops/ Yes, I know, not exactly respectful enough origins for what I'm using it for, but I thought it was a beautiful stanza… And besides, isn't the tune of one of America's national songs taken from a similar British song? Can't remember which one, though…

* * *

For a moment after waking, his mind still thought he was at the Dursleys, despite the fact he was lying on a soft bed beneath a warm blanket. Then Harry opened his eyes and recognized the ceiling as that of his year's Gryffindor dorm room. It took just a little more time for the fifteen-year-old to remember just why he was there, but remember he did.

Once he and Hagrid had finally got to Hogwarts, they'd barely made it to the base of the stairs before that strange energy ran out and he collapsed. Harry couldn't remember anything that happened after that, but he realized with a blush of embarrassment that Hagrid must have carried him all the rest of the way to the Gryffindor Tower.

Sitting up and plucking his glasses from the side table, he looked around, and saw his cloak and album sitting next to his trunk, proof positive that Professo- Remus must have escaped the foul clutches of Vernon Dursley intact. With them was his wand, and he felt a profound sense of relief once he had tucked it into his waistband. Unfortunately, after that he didn't have a clue what to do.

And that being so, when Remus opened the door of the dorm a few minutes later he found Harry slumped on his bed, fiddling with his father's invisibility cloak. "Oh, good, you're awake."

The teenager started to get up, but was waved back down as the wizard stepped inside and closed the door after him. "Don't bother. Dobby will be up with some breakfast in just a minute; I was coming to get you up so you could eat."

Harry started to protest that he wasn't hungry- he really wasn't, despite how he'd nearly fainted from the lack of food the night before- but Remus stopped him with a stern look. "Don't even try it, mister. I'll admit I wasn't tracking too well at the end of last term, but even so I can tell you've lost at least a stone since then. And it's only been three weeks!"

The boy's cheeks flushed a bright red, and he dropped his eyes to stare down at his lap. "Yes, Remus," he said quietly, so quietly that only his curse-enhanced hearing let Remus make out the words.

He looked at the small boy for a long moment, then sighed, and sat down on the bed next to him. "It's all right, Harry," he said softly, putting his arms around him. "I'm not angry with you, just… worried about you. I hate seeing you do this to yourself."

Harry stiffened as soon as he felt the hug, but gradually relaxed as the older wizard didn't let go. Shuddering, he pressed his face against Remus's shoulder, knowing his robes would absorb any of the tears he was holding back if he lost control of them. "I know…" he whispered. "I just can't…"

"Hush," Remus murmured, holding him more tightly. "You don't need to defend yourself to me, Harry. You'll never have to do that. Just…" He pulled away slightly, tilting the boy's face so they could look each other in the eye. "Please, stop this. For my sake, for his sake, for yours. He'd hate to see you like this, even more than I do."

Harry couldn't hide the flinch that statement produced, the only outward sign of the sudden empty abyss that seemed to huddle inside his chest. But all the same he nodded, staring up into the gold-flecked hazel eyes of the only true family he had left. "I'll try," he promised weakly, his voice cracking from the suppressed tears.

Remus gave him a gentle smile. "That's all I can ask for."

The boy smiled weakly at him, sniffling and rubbing a hand over his eyes. He was about to speak when there was a loud 'pop!' from just beside the bed.

"Harry Potter, sir!" Harry managed to untangle one arm fast enough to catch the flying house elf. "It is good to be seeing you, sir!"

"You too, Dobby," the wizard said in a voice still rough from unshed tears, genuinely glad to see the little creature.

"Hello." Remus smiled at the house elf. "Did you bring the tray?"

He nodded hastily, beaming, and pointed towards the dish-covered tray floating just a few feet away. "Yes, sir. Dobby is having all of Harry Potter sir's favorite things!"

"Thanks, Dobby," Harry said quietly, impulsively pulling the energetic house elf into another hug. "It's so good to be back…"

Dobby's joyous face shone even brighter, until finally he broke away and waved over the floating tray. Remus caught it and set it gently down on the rumpled bed. A couple minutes later the house elf 'popped!' back out, pleading work that he needed to do.

The tray did indeed hold Harry's most beloved foods: fluffy scrambled eggs, crispy, greasy bacon, slices of bread toasted to the perfect shade of golden-brown and accompanied by an entire pot of strawberry jam…

All in all, the next half hour or so was a very pleasurable experience for the Boy-Who-Lived, even when his stomach began to protest over being stuffed with more food in one sitting than he'd eaten in a week. Remus agreed to eat a few bites as well, after being subjected to Harry's best puppy eyes, which were unknowingly enhanced by his starved-waif appearance; the professor had already eaten, but Harry felt uncomfortable with having him simply sit there while he himself was stuffing his face.

But then the time came when the plates were empty, and Harry shoved away the tray and looked seriously at his former professor. "Are the Dursleys alright?" he asked bluntly, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.

Remus grimaced, and reluctantly nodded. "Yes, they're fine. There hasn't been any sign of the Death Eaters yet, but we have at least two wizards permanently stationed at Arabella's to sound the alarm when they actually attack."

Harry sagged back into his pillow, feeling a profound, if rather unwarranted sense of relief. "Thank God…" he murmured under his breath.

Apparently not quietly enough, though, as Remus grimaced again. "I confess," he said with care, "I would not be terribly… depressed, should they not make it out of this completely unscathed. I don't want them dead," he hurried to add, "but… the things your uncle said, after you'd gone through the Floo-"

"Don't tell me," Harry interrupted hastily. "I… I can make a pretty good guess of it myself." He dropped his head and starred at his lap, his fingers playing with the edge of the sheet.

The werewolf nodded silently as he stared off into the distance, still looking a tad upset. Harry reached over and patted him clumsily on the hand, not used to reassuring other people. "It doesn't matter. I only have to go through one more summer with them anyway." Then he thought that through again. "Assuming the house is still standing, of course… Hey, do you think we can tell the Death Eaters we don't mind property damage?" he asked brightly, trying to break the tension.

It seemed to work, as Remus chuckled. "That, or we could simply set the Weasley twins on them…" He stopped, and shuddered. "I take that back. That would be _too_ cruel."

The boy grinned, green eyes flashing with muted laughter for the first time in over a month. "I dunno… maybe if we only sicced one twin on them?"

"I'll see if I can arrange it," Remus said with a smile, getting up. Harry realized he was about to leave.

"Um, Remus? What… what am I supposed to do now?" he asked with a worried frown. Sure, it was great being back at Hogwarts, but if the décor was going to be the only difference from the sheer boredom of the Dursleys…

The older wizard hesitated, looking startled. "Er… there's always your homework," he suggested uncertainly.

Harry grimaced. "Finished it a few days ago. Hermione would be proud."

Remus frowned thoughtfully, leaning against the bedpost. "Well… I don't see anything wrong with you exploring the castle, as long as you don't go outside. I mean, I don't know if you'd want to, but we always had fun doing it…"

"No, no," the teenager interrupted quickly, "exploring sounds fun. I don't think I've ever gotten the chance to just look around Hogwarts."

The werewolf smiled at him. "All right, then. Just remember, no leaving the castle. The wards protect the grounds, too, but they're not as strong outside the walls."

Harry nodded. "I promise, I won't go out on the grounds." He grimaced slightly, glancing over towards his trunk. "Even if I do miss flying…"

Remus gave him a sympathetic look, and walked over to the door. "Remember that promise. If you need anything, Argus, Hagrid and I are the only professors staying here, though you can probably ask Dobby as well."

The Boy-Who-Lived shuddered. "I think I'll just ask you, thanks…" He loved Dobby, he really did, but he did _not_ need the house elf trying to 'help' him again…

He could hear Remus still chuckling as he went down the stairs.

* * *

And indeed, exploring the castle was what Harry did for the next week. Some of the time he spent simply wandering around its myriad passageways, seeing what he would find that he hadn't seen before. Other times he would pull out the Marauder's Map and choose a specific destination, then head out to find it.

The Room of Requirement was a frequent stop, though it couldn't seem to make up its mind as to what he 'required'. Sometimes it was the dueling classroom he and his friends had used for the DA; sometimes it just appeared as a quiet place to relax in, with a comfy couch a few feet from a roaring fireplace.

Harry resisted the urge to visit the Chamber of Secrets again whenever it reared its head. Not only would it likely be considered beyond his self-imposed boundary of the castle walls, but going there would mean going through Myrtle's bathroom. Sure, the long-dead girl was a nice person, once you got to know her, and she _had_ helped him out in the second task, but…

Okay, so the invitation to share her toilet after he died was still spooking the boy. And could anyone really blame him?

On the fifth day in he tried to visit the forbidden corridor on the third floor that had once guarded the Sorcerer's Stone. The room that had once held Fluffy, Hagrid's beloved Cerberus, was still there, but the trapdoor that had once led down into the series of trial rooms was gone. Tapping on the floor revealed nothing- the stones were as solid as though nothing had ever been there. Harry was a little disappointed, but not much. The place didn't exactly hold golden memories for him.

He didn't spend every moment exploring, of course. In between meals down in the kitchen that the house elves were only too pleased to make for him, and occasionally Remus when he decided to join him, the wizard-in-training would stop by the library for the odd book or two. Some were just for reading (and he could see the look of betrayal on Ron's face already), and others were for revising the homework he'd done over the summer, since once Harry had reread his various essays he discovered that writing while half-starved and sleep-deprived would not be good for his grades.

As the week came to a close, the Boy-Who-Lived found himself beginning to feel just a tad burned out towards exploring. Sure, it was fun- loads of fun, actually. But it was _not_ how he wanted to be spending his summer vacation. Still, there were a couple of places he wanted to check out before he called it quits for now. And after that… well, maybe he'd take a page out of Hermione's book, and get some serious studying done for the next year.

Harry hated to admit it, but it simply wasn't likely that he'd managed to get the Outstanding he needed to get into Advanced Potions. Without Advanced Potions, there was no way he could be an Auror, even if that was what life and fate were turning him into, so he figured he'd better start looking for other job prospects.

He was wondering if he should maybe bring up the subject next time he talked to Remus as he wandered through the corridors, since it was likely the older wizard could come up with a few good suggestions. The boy paused in front of the Great Hall, hearing his professor's voice inside. Yeah, Remus would probably help him, but…

Harry grimaced. Okay, so his Gryffindor hubris was coming into play. He didn't want to acknowledge the fact that he'd failed at something- well, at least to anyone but himself. Maybe Snape was right after all, and he was just as bigheaded as his father…

The green-eyed wizard shuddered, leaning against the thick stone wall. Damn it, he did _not_ just think that greasy git might be right about something… Yes, his father was an obnoxious little asshole. That did _not_ automatically mean he was cut from the same cloth!

Not that he'd ever be able to convince Snape of that rather obvious little fact. For all that he was a Slytherin to the bone, Harry's Potions professor had an uncanny ability to bury his head in the sand when it came to things he simply did not want to see. And he _wouldn't_ see them, even if other people's lives depended on it…

_Sirius_…

Trying to distract himself from his increasingly bitter thoughts, Harry glanced around the Entrance Hall, and for the first time saw a tiny hallway off to the side of the room. Curious, he walked over to it, and found it wasn't tiny at all, but merely well-hidden. After a moment of digging through his memories, the boy realized that it wasn't a new corridor by any means- this was how he'd first entered Hogwarts, after his traditional first-year boat ride across the lake with Hagrid.

This was the corridor that led to the cavern under Hogwarts that held the docks.

By this point his curiosity was nearly overwhelming, and Harry actually took a few steps down the passageway before the memory of his promise to Remus made him stop again. Would the docks be considered outside of Hogwarts' walls?

He frowned down the corridor. Well, maybe if he didn't actually go _into_ the cave…

The boy managed to get about ten steps further before his conscience twinged. "Damn it," he muttered, leaning against the wall again. "Alright, alright, I won't go look at the docks, happy?" Well, he supposed he could always ask Remus if he could go see them…

Sighing, Harry turned and started back towards the Great Hall, and paused yet again as an unexpected breeze caressed his face. Startled, he glanced to the side and saw a narrow slip in the wall, one so small that only a child or an abnormally slight person would fit through it.

Harry grimaced as he realized he was just the perfect size.

Though, it was a good thing he'd left his robes behind that morning, he reflected as he squeezed himself through the narrow gap. As it was, he was going to leave some skin behind. Beyond, the crevice led into a slightly wider passageway. Curious, Harry began walking along it, this time silencing the little annoying voice in the back of his head by telling it that he _was_ inside Hogwarts' walls. Literally.

After a minute or so, the passage opened up into a cave, and for a brief moment Harry wondered if he'd somehow made it to the docks. Then that thought was tossed out as he took a few more steps inside and the sheer awe of the place stopped him dead in his tracks.

The cavern itself wasn't all that large, and while there was no dust, he somehow had the impression that no person had walked in this hallowed place for many years. A small hole in the cave's ceiling let a beam of sunlight tumble in, which landed almost directly on the tile mosaic on the floor. The reflected light from the sunbeam lit up the walls as well, and Harry was stunned by the beauty and complexity of the colorful murals that covered the limestone.

The boy approached the nearest mural, and found it depicted a picturesque landscape, one of rolling green hills and dramatic outcroppings of rock. A beautiful marble temple stood on one of the hills. When he looked closely, he could just make out little black dots that must have been people wandering around the extensive gardens outside.

After a minute or so Harry backed away, and spun in a slow circle, trying to take everything in. It was only then that he saw the shrine set up against the far wall. He didn't know _how_ he knew it was a shrine, but he couldn't see how it could be anything else. Eyes wide, he had crossed the room before he knew precisely what he was doing, and had come to a stop before it.

The first thing he noticed about it was the dazzling sunburst made of beaten gold that presided over the shrine. The sunlight gleamed off its rays, shining down onto the shrine itself. The raised platform was made of some kind of golden wood that Harry had never seen before. It was draped with bolts of an elegant golden cloth, silk that looked so soft and smooth that the wizard's hands itched to run over it. He controlled himself, though, keeping his hands firmly to his sides. Instead, Harry let his eyes rove over the shrine as his hands longed to do.

Resting on the level part of the shrine were an incense burner and an empty metal bowl, made of bronze or copper, and the first things he'd seen that weren't of a golden hue. Just above them the shrine rose and joined with the wall, and on that erect surface Harry saw an inscription carved into the wood. He leaned forward, and almost of their own volition his fingers came up and traced over the sculpted letters, even as his lips unconsciously formed the words.

_I know more than Apollo,  
__For oft while he lies sleeping  
__I see the stars of bloody wars  
__In the wounded welkin weeping…_

He had only a moment to realize that he had just done a very stupid thing before magic swelled around him and there was a brilliant flash of light. Then, he knew no more.

* * *

A/N: Well, hopefully this chapter was a bit more interesting than the first one…

Anyway, I have a general announcement to make. I'm not sure if anyone noticed, but this chapter and the previous one averaged around three thousand words of story. That will not always by the case with this story. Chapter length will vary greatly- they could be anywhere from barely a thousand words to three and a half. The next chapter is just a bit more than two thousand. The reason for this is that specific events that I've planned out ahead of time will be happening in each chapter, and I have no way of knowing at the present just how many words it will take me to present those events.

And, our most appreciative thanks to **bellashade**, **drarrysev**, **HecateDeMort** (nothing really serious, I promise you), **Shade Dancer**, and **wolfawaken**.

* * *

11 January 2005


	3. III: So Many Songs We Forgot to Play

_Warnings and Disclaimers_: Well… I own Sam, Egan, and Mateos, but I don't own the rest… Especially the song. That's _These Dreams_ by **Heart**, which I believe to be one of the most beautiful songs of the twentieth century. Not to mention I realized that it rather peculiarly fit this story...

-:-!-:-

"I don't pretend to comprehend your reasons for choosing this… _place_ for our meeting, Fletcher, but I suggest that you _not_ do so again," Severus growled as he slid gingerly into the booth. "For your own safety."

Mundungus "Dung" Fletcher grinned at the dour man, incidentally baring his yellow, tobacco-stained teeth to the world. "Aw, c'mon now, Severus! You need to get out more, socialize a little, y'know? Bein' cooped up all year in those dungeons o' yours can't be good for you."

The Slytherin glared poisonously at the man. "Be that as it may," he bit out, "why are we in a _muggle bar_, of all places?"

Fletcher looked genuinely hurt. "What? I _like_ this bar, you overgrown bat. The drinks are decent, an' the food's damn good."

Severus scowled at him, and the wizard was quick to come up with another reason that wouldn't get him used as ingredients in a potion. "An' you hafta admit, no Death Eater would ever think to look for us 'ere."

"That's because I normally wouldn't be caught dead in a place like this," the potions master grumbled, eyeing the roomful of noisy muggles. "Now, you said you had information that couldn't wait until the next Order meeting?" he prompted impatiently, not wanting to spend any more time in the muggle world than was necessary.

The ruffian grinned, looking like the cat that'd eaten the canary. "Patience, Severus! 'Sides, it ain't so much information as somethin' to see." He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "An' I kinda wasn't sure it was 'im, so I wanted someone to come confirm it 'fore I made a fool o' meself at the next meetin'."

Severus couldn't hide a slight frown. He'd never seen Fletcher so seriously smug about something that didn't somehow involve grand larceny. Either the other wizard had finally lost the few brain cells he had left after years of alcohol and substance abuse… or whatever this was about was actually important. "And just whom might you be speaking of?"

The man didn't answer directly, instead gazing distantly across the bar in the general direction of the bar's small stage, where a band was just starting to set up. "I've been comin' 'ere for, oh, two or three months now. I saw 'im then, o' course, but I didn't really think it could be _'im_, cos 'ow could someone be in two places at once, y'know? But then the werewolf said 'e'd gone an' disappeared, an'…" He shrugged, still looking away.

By this time a dubious suspicion had begun to take root in the Slytherin's mind. Could he possibly mean… "_Who_, Fletcher? Who disappeared?"

Not that he really needed to ask, since there was only one recently vanished person that the Order of the Phoenix was actively trying to find, but if it _wasn't_ the boy…

There was silence for a moment in their booth, then Fletcher raised an arm and pointed at one of the people setting up instruments on the stage, a dark-haired young man who was currently plugging several cords into a keyboard. "There. That's 'im, I'm almost sure o' it. That's 'arry Potter."

For a few seconds Severus stared at him (for he would never do something so undignified as to gape incredulously), then at the teenager on the other side of the room. "Are you mad, or simply blind?" he asked sarcastically. "That _can't_ be Potter. For one thing, he's too old!"

The small-time criminal scowled, stung. "You think I don't know that? It's why I never mentioned 'im to anyone! But I've 'eard 'is friends call 'im 'arry, an' I saw the scar for meself just last night!"

Unable to think of anything to say to express the depths of his disbelief, Severus abruptly stood. "Wait," Fletcher said, grabbing his arm. "They're about to start a set. 'E's been 'ere for months, 'e ain't goin' to just disappear again cos we found 'im."

The wizard glared venomously at him, shrugging off his hand. "_That_ is precisely the same reasoning that allowed the brat to slip away the first time," he hissed. He turned again towards the stage, and this time his progress went unimpeded.

Severus was able to add several things to the catalogue of why this could not possibly be Potter as he approached the youth. Besides being too old by a year or two, the boy had much longer hair, pulled back into a tail at the nape of his neck, and was also an inch taller than the Boy-Who-Lived-to-Annoy-Him.

Though, Potter had always been rather small for his age. Perhaps he'd finally hit a growth spurt?

"Potter?" he asked tersely, stopping in front of him. The youth looked up, and Severus was shocked to find that for once in his misbegotten life, Mundungus Fletcher was actually _right_ about something. Sure enough, there was the infamous lightning bolt scar beneath still-messy bangs, and the dazzling green eyes in a surprisingly tanned face that could belong to no one but Harry Potter.

"Yes? Can I help you, sir?" the boy replied, looking curiously at him, and the potions master felt a thrill of rage run through him. How _dare_ the imbecilic little brat run away, then act like nothing had happened _to his very face_?!

He was so enraged, in fact, that his normally very observant mind failed to notice the slight, distinctly foreign accent that overlaid his student's words.

"Potter, where the _hell_ have you been? The entire Order has been looking for you for a _week_!" Severus paused and glared at the boy, waiting impatiently for an answer.

And why the hell was Potter looking so damn confused?

The youth's words reflected Severus' exasperated observation. "…Sir? I'm afraid I don't quite know what you're talking about… What is this 'Order', and why would it be looking for me?" he asked with a puzzled frown.

The Slytherin blinked, stunned even further by the boy's sheer insolence. "Potter, I don't know what kind of game you're playing, but it is _not_ amusing. You know perfectly what the damn Order is! Now, just what imbecilic thought was going through your empty skull when you decided to disappear like that?! What if Death Eaters had found you instead of that idiot Fletcher? You are _extremely_ lucky the Dark Lord hasn't gotten his hands on you yet, you fool boy!"

By now Potter was beginning to look more annoyed than confused, and there was just enough time for the vague thought that something wasn't right before the teenager decided enough was enough. "Look," he stated, his green eyes clouded with genuine anger as he thrust an unyielding finger into Severus' chest, "I don't know what the hell your 'Order' is, or about this 'Dark Lord', and I don't particularly care! But if your only purpose in being here is to insult me, then I think perhaps it's time for you to leave, _sir_."

"Harry? Are you all right?" The wizard glanced to the side and saw a slim brunette standing there, staring suspiciously at him. "This man isn't bothering you, is he?" she asked Potter.

The young man watched Severus for a moment with wary eyes, then reluctantly shook his head. "No, Sam, I'm fine. He was just leaving," he said firmly, staring pointedly at the potions master to make sure he got the message.

"Good, 'cause we've got to get started _now_." Giving Severus another hard look, the muggle girl grabbed Potter by the hand and pulled him back onto the stage. "Tony says there's something wrong with one of his feeds, and he wants to know if you have any ideas…"

The wizard stared after them for a few more seconds, face even paler than it usually was. Then he turned and went back to where Fletcher still sat in their booth. "We may have a problem," he said quietly. "Go and contact Albus. I have a feeling we're going to need him before long."

Puzzled, nonetheless the Order member nodded and got up, darting out the bar's doors. Severus glanced back at the stage as he heard the first bars of music waft over from the small group of teenagers, and the brunette from before stepped forward, mike in hand. "_Spare a little candle, save some light for me_," she sang softly, accompanied by Potter on his keyboard. "_Figures up ahead, moving in the trees. White skin in linen, perfume on my wrist, and the full moon that hangs over these dreams in the mist…"_

_These dreams go on when I close my eyes.  
__Every second of the night, I live another life.  
__These dreams that sleep when it's cold outside.  
__Every moment I'm awake, the further I'm away…_

_Darkness on the edge, shadows where I stand,  
__I search for the time on a watch with no hands.  
__I want to see you clearly, come closer than this.  
__But all I remember are the dreams in the mist…_

_These dreams go on when I close my eyes.  
__Every second of the night, I live another life.  
__These dreams that sleep when it's cold outside.  
__Every moment I'm awake, the further I'm away…_

_Is it cloak and dagger, could it be spring or fall?  
__I walk without a cut through a stain glass wall.  
__Weaker in my eyesight, the candle in my grip,  
__And words that have no form are falling from my lips…_

_These dreams go on when I close my eyes.  
__Every second of the night, I live another life.  
__These dreams that sleep when it's cold outside.  
__Every moment I'm awake, the further I'm away…_

_There's something out there I can't resist.  
__I need to hide away from the pain.  
__There's something out there I can't resist…_

_The sweetest song is silence, that I've ever heard.  
__Funny how your feet in dreams never touch the earth.  
__In a wood full of princes, freedom is a kiss,  
__But the prince hides his face from dreams in the mist…_

_These dreams go on when I close my eyes.  
__Every second of the night, I live another life.  
__These dreams that sleep when it's cold outside.  
__Every moment I'm awake, the further I'm away…_

_These dreams go on when I close my eyes.  
__Every second of the night, I live another life…_

-:-!-:-

_Harry groaned as light streamed painfully through his eyelids, leaving violently red afterimages on his retinas. Every limb, every extremity ached, and he could feel his back muscles cramping from their contact with the chillingly cold stone floor. The first vestiges of what promised to be a truly monumental headache lurked at the boundaries of his mind._

_All in all, he would have much preferred to delay his awakening by, oh, a few weeks or so._

_"_Του που ξυπν�." _(He's__ waking up.)_

_The young wizard groaned again as the sudden voice sent a wave of pain through his skull, though it had spoken in little more than a whisper. _Please, please, whoever you are, don't talk again…

_No such luck__. "_Ποιοι είναι εσείς;" _the__ voice demanded, and Harry felt a toe nudge him in the side. He whimpered in pain, and a second, kinder voice scolded the first. (Who are you?)_

_"_Δεν υπήρξε καμία αν�γκη να γίνει αυτή, Egan. Δεν μπορείτε να δείτε αυτός βλ�πτεστε?" _(There was no need to do that, Egan. Can you not see he is hurt)?_

_"_Καταπατ� επίσης, κύριος. Για ό,τι ξέρουμε, είναι ένας εγκληματίας που υποφέρει για τα παραπτώματ� του!" _(He is also trespassing, Master. For all we know, he is a criminal suffering for his misdeeds!)_

_"_Είναι μόνο _αγόρι_, ο γιος μου. Και ένας εγκληματίας θα βρισκόταν πριν από το βωμό του Λόρδου μας?" _(He is but a _boy_, my son. And would a hardened criminal lie before our Lord's altar?)_

_Harry simply lay there, listening to the incomprehensible conversation going on overhead until it occurred to his pain-befuddled mind that they were most likely arguing over his fate. He sluggishly opened his eyes, flinching as the relatively harsh light of what turned out to be a torch burned his eyes._

_After a couple of moments he summoned all his courage and opened them again, and was relieved to find that this time the contrast wasn't nearly so bad. Everything was blurry, though, and he realized his glasses must have fallen off at some point._

_He _could_ make out two men in what looked like white robes standing over him. One was bald, and the other held the burning torch high in one hand. The one with hair- that he suspected to be younger, as well- said something to the other man, gesturing down towards the boy on the floor, and Harry recognized his was the voice belonging to the man who had poked him._

_The bald man nodded and laboriously knelt, finally bringing his face into Harry's range of vision. He was old, though not nearly so old as Dumbledore, with deep lines carved into his kindly face and a salt-and-pepper __beard. "_Ποιο είναι το όνομ� σας, το παιδί μου;?_" he asked, and Harry was genuinely distressed that he couldn't understand the question to answer it. (What is your name, my child?)_

_"I…" he croaked out, the word barely recognizable even to him. "I can't… I'm sorry…"_

_The old man frowned, obviously puzzled by the strange words. He asked another question, but this time Harry couldn't even offer a rudimentary answer._

_He was too busy fainting again._

-:-!-:-

A/N: Well, hopefully the Greek letters came through alright… The translations for each phrase come at the end of each paragraph, in case any of you _didn't_ get that…

Right. Er. What was I going to write…?

Okay, I can't remember it anymore… despite staring at a blank screen for ten minutes… so just forget it. Thanks to everyone who reviewed, and...

/blinks/ Oh, sure, _now_ I remember… If anyone saw it, the picture on my bio is fanart for this story. (and has a clue towards the crossover…) FFnet didn't upload it too well, though, so after I post this I'll be putting it on my website, along with a link to it from my bio. Please be patient, though, as it might take a while.

And updates will be a bit slower from now on, since I'm going to stop concentrating on this so much now that it's past the hurdle of the first few chapters.

_Our most appreciative thanks to_: **bellashade**, **E.A.V.**, **Guava-juice**, **Heala** (He will, it'll just be a couple of chapters before he comes back in), **HecateDeMort**, **Keeper of Destiny**, **Mithros**, **nogoalielikeme**, **Larail**, **LassyD**, **Shade Dancer**, and **Von** (/shakes her head/ Nope, that's crossover related…).

* * *

18 January 2005


	4. IV: The Music's Played By the Mad Men

_Warnings and Disclaimers_: A few more original characters to declare… Mike, Toby and Katherine are all mine, though I admit I may have mixed and matched a few of my friends to produce their personalities.

* * *

Harry leaned over his keyboard, disconnecting several leads. As he finished up, a flash of black out in the audience caught his eye, and he swore. 

"Harry? What is it?" Matt asked, concerned. "You didn't electrocute yourself again, did you?"

The green-eyed boy scowled at his university dormmate. "You just _had_ to bring _that_ incident up, didn't you?"

The heavy-set teenager grinned at him. "Well, it _was_ such a memorable event..."

Harry's scowl deepened to a glare. "Oh, shove off..."

Sam sniggered as she helped Tony pack up his guitar. "Did you hear that? Just two years of suffering with us Northern barbarians and he's already sounding British."

The boy in question reached over and tried to swat his friend on the back of her head. She dodged the blow with an ease developed from much practice as the others laughed.

"So what _does_ have you riled up?" Tony asked as the chuckles died down, running a hand through his sweat-darkened bangs. Being the only other non-Brit in the group, an American, in fact, he had some sympathy for the other teenager.

Harry grimaced and jerked his chin towards the audience. Sam followed the directed of his gaze and scowled. ''Great, that creep's still here."

"Creep?" Matt inquired curiously, raising a blonde eyebrow.

The slender young woman nodded. "Yeah. This really obnoxious guy was bugging Harry before the show."

"Boyfriend or stalker?" Matt's question was asked half in jest, half seriously. If his best friend was being stalked, he wanted to know about it, so he could give the creep a little toss out the door. And ditto for the boyfriend part; if his roommate really _had_ picked up a new boyfriend, Matt _really_ wanted to know about before he came home early and accidentally saw something he didn't particularly want to.

Harry sighed. "_Why_ did I ever tell you guys I was bi? _No_, he's not my boyfriend. In fact, I'd rather not go near him with a ten-foot pole."

"Which one is he?" the last member of their little group asked abruptly as she peered out at the still surprisingly full tables with cold blue eyes.

"The one in black with the hook nose and greasy-looking hair," Harry answered irritably.

"An unpleasant fellow," Matt observed uneasily. "Especially since he's glaring at you." The blonde frowned at the strange man, and the entire group engaged in a brief staring contest with him.

"We should call the police," Katherine finally said. "He could be dangerous."

Harry blinked. "Do you really think that's necessary? He may honestly think I'm whoever he's looking for. I mean, he _did_ know my name..."

Sam rolled her eyes. "Harry, honey, that just means he's a stalker who does his homework. He could've asked pretty much anyone in this bar and they could have told him your name."

"Which is even worse," Tony added, slipping an arm around his girlfriend's shoulders. "If he's put any work into this whatsoever, he's not likely to give up, even if ya say 'please.'"

Katherine and Matt both nodded their agreement. "You want me to show him the door?" the stout drummer offered. "I could ask Uncle Robert not to let him back in."

Harry considered. He didn't really like asking Matt's uncle for favors, since the man had already done them a major one by convincing the owner of the bar he worked as the head bouncer in to hire their band. But... He glanced warily at the dark man in the booth, who was still staring at him, though he seemed less annoyed at the teenager than he had earlier and more puzzled.

And then there was the fact that he hadn't completely been telling the truth, before, about not having a clue who he was, or caring. "There _is_ something... familiar about him," Harry admitted quietly. "I just can't quite..."

"If he _has_ been stalking you, and was careless, you might have caught a glimpse of him," Katherine suggested, her quick mind racing to come up with a possible explanation.

"Maybe..." the teenager grimaced. "He _does_ look rather peeved with me, doesn't he? Maybe I should take you up on your offer," he said to Matt, looking worried.

"And it gets worse," Toby said in an undertone, staring out at the tables. "Looks like he just got some backup."

-:-!-:-

Severus breathed a sigh of relief as he saw Albus Dumbledore walk through the door, drawing stares as he went from the muggles, though thankfully not as many as he normally would, since his robes were an unusually tame solid navy blue. Fletcher slipped in behind him, and guided the older wizard towards the potions master's booth.

"Good evening, Severus!" the Headmaster greeted him cheerfully as he lowered himself into a seat. "I hear you and Mundungus found our boy!"

The Slytherin scowled. "Did he tell you the rest of it?" he inquired sarcastically. "The part where Potter's a damn _amnesiac_?"

Shockingly, Albus actually looked a little taken aback. "Amnesia? Dear me… That simply won't do." Severus stared at him in disbelief as the older wizard glanced around the room. "Well, where is he, then? I'd best have a little chat with him…"

Severus gave him an odd look. Did he really expect to just 'have a little chat' with the boy after the falling out the two of them had had only weeks ago? He didn't have a clue what their spat was about, but all throughout the last month of school Potter hadn't done anything except glare at the Headmaster and sulk.

Of course, Albus might have been counting on getting back on Potter's good side while he couldn't remember just why he was brassed off with the old man…

The potions master rose from the table with a heartfelt grimace. Oh, this just could _not_ end well…

-:-!-:-

_When next Harry awoke, he was lying on a rather uncomfortable pallet. _Relatively _uncomfortable, that was- compared to the floor it had been his misfortune to wake up on before, the straw-stuffed pallet was heaven. And his back agreed with him whole-heartedly._

_So to speak, anyway..._

_Still, that left the matter of the various sharp pokey things digging into his skin, and the young wizard almost absently shifted, trying to find a position that didn't leave him full of holes._

_" ΤελικΦlt;/i> Ύ?ρυπνος, είναι εσείς?" (Finally awake, are you?)_

_Harry suppressed a groan as he heard the same irritated voice as the last time he'd been awake. He opened his eyes blearily, and found someone leaning over him._

_The young man couldn't have been very much older than the Boy-Who-Lived, no more than a couple of years, in fact. He had dark brown hair, cut rather raggedly just above his ears. His skin was deeply tanned, and pale green eyes stared haughtily into Harry's own, far darker orbs._

_" Καλο" he demanded. " ποιοι είναι εσείς, έπειτα?" (Well?) (Who are you, then?)_

_Harry gave him a mental sigh, sitting up. Merlin, not this again. Didn't they have anyone who spoke English wherever the hell here was? Frustrated, he said nothing, and stared sullenly back at the stranger._

_The stranger bristled at his silence, and leaned forward, his fists clenched in the lap of his strange white roads. "είστε χαμηλώνετε ή απλΠηλίθιος? ποιοι είναι εσείς? απαντήστε σε με, εσείς αναιδής αγρότης!" (Are you mute or simply stupid? Who are you? Answer me, you impertinent peasant!)_

_By this point, Harry was getting truly annoyed, especially since he had the distinct feeling that he was being insulted. "Look," he hissed, his eyes narrowing, "I don't know who the hell you think you are, and I don't know what in Morgana's hells you're saying, but I am not going to sit here and just take it! Is that clear_

_-:-!-:-_

_Egan, youngest acolyte to the Sun Lord Apollo, blinked, taken aback as much by the strange syllables of the bizarre language as by the mysterious boy's irate tone and flashing eyes. Well, he obviously wasn't mute... And from the intelligence lurking in those emerald orbs, the priest doubted the other option applied, either._

_Even if that was how he himself now felt. He hadn't even considered the possibility that the stranger might not even know Greek, the most civilized tongue in the world._

_He winced. He just knew Master Mateos would lecture him on having an open mind later on when he reported this conversation._

_Egan rubbed his temples and leaned back on his short stool with a sigh. Now what? How in Hades' Underworld was he supposed to find out who the brat was if he couldn't talk to him?!_

_The 'brat' in question was studying him carefully from his pallet, glimmering green eyes thoughtful. The anger he'd displayed earlier seemed to have vanished, except for a certain wariness in his features. "What?" he snapped finally, though his voice wasn't nearly as sharp as it might have been._

_"Harry," the boy said quietly, gesturing towards himself._

_Egan frowned, puzzled, and the boy did it again. It was only then that the priest realized the stranger was trying to tell him his name. "Heh-ree?" he repeated, bemused by the outlandish name._

_The boy shook his head. "Har-ry," he said carefully, and the young man repeated his name until the stranger seemed satisfied with his pronunciation. Then 'Harry' settled back on the pallet and stared at him with an air of expectation._

_The sun priest stared back for a few moments, then realized what he was waiting for. "Egan," he said with the slightest of flushes, pointing to himself._

_The boy nodded, murmuring his name to himself. Then Egan saw his eyes begin to droop, and rose. "Go ahead and get some more rest," he said quietly, feeling much more kindly disposed towards the youth than he had only a few minutes ago._

_Harry blinked at him, obviously not comprehending his words, so he pointed to the pallet and molded his features into the appearance of command. "Sleep," he mock-ordered, and the boy grinned, lying down agreeably._

_By the time Egan had left the Sun Temple's guest quarters, the strange child was fast asleep._

_

* * *

_

_A/N: Okay, a couple of notes… The OCs will not, in any way, be the main characters of this story. I put them in as proof. And while that statement doesn't make sense yet, once we get further into the story it will._

_Also- to anyone out there who actually speaks/reads Greek, I apologize for any mistakes. I am at the complete mercy of Internet translators in this particular matter._

_In regards to that 'electrocution' bit... I originally put that in as a clue to the crossover, but then Nikki made me promise to write a flashback for it. Don't expect that 'til near the end of the story, though._

_And now that that's been taken care of… our most sincere thanks to **bellashade** (nope, but it is a tv show…), **E.A.V.** (thank you! bows even if I'm not entirely sure what you mean… And don't worry. There is no possibility of elves in this story. That particular plot device is so beyond cliché, we need to invent a new word.), **Fate**, **HecateDeMort**, **Shade Dancer** (more of the Order shows up next chappie. grimaces 's why I didn't feel like putting some of it in this chapter, since that'll be a major part…), and **Shino Ryu** for reviewing._

_

* * *

_

**25 January 2005**


	5. V: Dreams Swinging Out of the Blue

**Warnings and Disclaimers**: Nothing particularly new, except to state that since HBP came out since the last time I posted a chapter on this, this story is officially AU.

* * *

As they approached, the stout drummer took up position behind Potter, reminding a rather uneasy Severus of nothing so much as a bodyguard. The blonde stared belligerently at them, prompting the Slytherin to slip a hand into a pocket to finger his ebony wand. Albus seemed to take no notice, but the wizard knew he was mentally cataloging every single movement, every expression. 

Like the wary one that had appeared on Potter's face as they drew near.

The young man sent Severus a look of pure annoyance. "I thought I told you to leave?" he hissed, his green eyes flashing.

"Fortunately, I do not now and never have taken orders from you, Mr. Potter," Severus returned dryly. "Otherwise I have no doubts you would at some point have ordered me to 'drop dead'."

"So in your own twisted little world we're great friends, I take it?" the Gryffindor replied, cocking his head to the side.

"Boys, boys, please!" Albus broke into the argument, holding his hands in the air to interrupt the flow of verbal vitriol. "Really. You don't even remember each other and you still don't get along!"

Potter eyed him with a hint of disbelief. "I really don't see the need to be buddy-buddy with a stalker. Especially when he brings company." The blonde nodded his head a little, obviously agreeing with his friend.

Severus' eyes narrowed, and the Headmaster stepped figuratively between them once again just in time to prevent an undoubtedly blistering retort. "In light of Mr. Potter's... indisposition... don't you think reintroductions might be in order?"

"That's assuming I_ want_ to know you..." Severus heard the young wizard mutter. He wished he could truthfully say the same, but from the hints Albus had been dropping over the last couple of years, they _needed_ Potter if they were to have any hope of defeating the Dark Lord.

"Now," the elderly man continued, "my name is Albus Dumbledore, and I am the headmaster of the school you attended up until you vanished a couple of weeks ago. My associate is Severus Snape, one of your professors, and-"

"And you're both a couple of crackpots," the as-yet-unnamed muggle interrupted with a derisive snort. "I've known Harry for a hell of a lot longer than a couple of weeks. Get a new bloody line!" He grasped Potter by the elbow and began to tug him away. "C'mon, Harry, we still need to pack up the rest of the equipment."

The boy went willingly enough, and the two wizards stared after them. "Well, that went well enough," Albus said sighing. "Not as well as I had hoped, perhaps, but well enough."

Severus turned to frown at the older man, just in time to see the headmaster pull out his wand and waggle it after the departing duo with a quiet murmur. "And that was...?" he prompted with a quirked brow.

"Why, 'twas but a simple tracking charm, my lad," Albus replied, directing a look towards his younger companion that clearly conveyed his hurt over Severus' suspicion. Long exposure to such looks had long since inured the Slytherin to any feelings of guilt, however, and the man merely scowled. "Young Harry doesn't seem to be in too cooperative a mood. Perhaps if we see where he goes he'll be feeling more accessible at a later time."

The potions master glanced again in the direction the savior of the wizarding world had vanished into. "Somehow, I doubt that..." he murmured. He didn't know what or why, but something told him that finding the boy had only been the beginning.

They still had a long road ahead of them if they wanted Harry Potter back.

-

"Can you _believe_ the nerve of that guy?" Matt grumbled as they carried the last of their band's equipment out the back door. From there it only a few meters to the end of the alley and the little secondary parking lot where their vehicles waited. "I think he really thought you'd believe him just because he bloody said so."

"Some people are like that," Harry replied absently, ostensibly occupied with making sure the looped power cords he carried over his shoulder were in some kind of order.

Sam glanced back at them. "You know, Harry, you don't seem very worried about this."

The musician shrugged, blowing his messy bangs out of his face. "It just doesn't seem very important. I mean, I doubt I'll ever see them again." Reaching the van, he stacked the cords inside, as behind his back his friends exchanged concerned looks. None of them thought he was taking this seriously enough, but they also knew him well enough to know he wouldn't welcome their mother henning with open arms.

Fine. So they'd just have to be subtle about watching their gentle, much too naïve friend.

-

_When again Harry awoke, the only light in the room came from a brazier filled with glowing embers. He was surprised to see a tray had been placed on the floor near his pallet, since it meant someone had entered while he slept. The tray held a coarse brown bread and a few slices of meat, long since grown cold, but Harry's ravenous stomach didn't much care about the temperature as he shoveled the food in._

_Hey, he was a hopefully still-growing boy and he hadn't eaten in what seemed like days!_

_The food was gone much too quickly. Harry sat back on the pallet, pulling the off-color linen sheet that had covered him around his shoulders. It wasn't really _cold_, not like Hogwarts even during the summer, but the stone and brick all around him gave the air the slightest of chills._

_For the first time the wizard had a chance to sit back and actually think about what had happened. Harry groaned and got up, walking over to the nearest wall. Hard enough to make painful stars flash behind his eyelids, he smacked his head into the wall, muttering all the while. "Stupid, stupid, stupid..." Damn it, he _knew_ better than to touch things he didn't know the purpose of!_

_"It wasn't stupid," a voice murmured behind him. "You _were_ it's purpose."_

_Harry jumped, spinning around and staring at the speaker with wide eyes. It was a boy perhaps a couple of years older than he was, with burnished red-gold hair that gleamed copper in the fiery light of the brazier and emerald eyes that could have been the mirror of his own. "Who the blazes are you?"_

_The stranger smirked. "Such a polite boy you are. Who did you learn manners from, a hill giant?" As Harry gaped, the young man walked over to the brazier and picked up a poker, crouching to stir up the dying embers._

_"You... you speak English!" the wizard said, relief pouring through him. "Please, could you tell me where I am?"_

_The boy looked up at him, and though without his glasses he couldn't be sure, Harry thought he was amused.. "Well, at least you said please... You're near Nemea, in the south of Greece."_

_"Greece!" Harry said with some astonishment. How in the world had he managed to travel so far from Scotland? And... "Oh, no... I've got to get back, the professors are going to go _spare

_His hair shimmering under the brazier's illumination, the stranger rose and walked over to the Boy-Who-Lived. "That's an interesting term... But I'm afraid it won't be possible for you to return home."_

_Harry tensed. "What? Why not?" Was he a prisoner here? One hand automatically reached for the wand tucked into the waistband of his ratty jeans._

_The other boy held up his hands, displaying empty palms. "I'm not going to hurt you. I'll _never_ hurt you. But you've come too far to go back."_

_"What do you mean?" Harry kept his hand near his wand. "It's not that hard to get back to the UK. I'll just get a message to Professor Dumbledore and he'll come get me, or I'll catch a plane back..." At least, he hoped the Headmaster would come get him. They hadn't parted on the best of terms last year, and truthfully, Harry wasn't all that interested in mending the bridges between them._

_He got a headshake in return, and he could have sworn he'd somehow confused the other boy. "Not too far as in distance, though you managed a fair bit of that as well. It's _time_ you've traveled in. You're in the past."_

_It took a moment for that to sink in, and Harry felt the blood drain from his face, leaving his cheeks cold. His knees buckled, and he would have hit the floor if the stranger hadn't caught him around the waist and half-carried him back to sit on the pallet._

_"...In the past?" he finally managed to say, and the youth nodded. "But... I want to go home! Please, let me go home!"_

_His eyes sad, the stranger reached out to brush a gentle hand over his cheek. "I'm sorry... I promise, if there is a way to get you home I will find it, but Cronos is a stubborn god. It may not be possible."_

_Almost against his will, Harry's eyes closed and he leaned into the touch. His fingers were warm and cool at the same time, and surprisingly soothing._

_"I will do my best," he heard the stranger say, "but I hope you do not hold it against me that I wish to keep you with me..."_

_Then the fingers were good, and Harry opened his eyes to find bright morning sunlight flooding through the gaps in the wooden door. The room was again empty, and he was lying down, the linen sheet tucked up around him._

_But there was no empty tray on the floor.

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A/N: Well, it's about time... The first half of this has been sitting around for forever... Hopefully things are starting to become bit clearer. Oh, and as a note: technically, the region Harry's in should be called Peloponnesus, but there's not much chance Harry would have recognized that name.

Now to go work on _Strains of Melody_ so I can get a chapter out to commemorate its hundred thousandth hit.

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_Our most sincere gratitude to_ **bellashade**, **Chara13**, **E.A.V.**, **Fate**, **HecateDeMort**, **Mithros**, **Shade Dancer**, **silverkitcat**, **Tinkering**, **Toki Mirage**, _and _**Von** _for reviewing_.

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29 September 2005


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